A beautiful sunrise over the pink sand of Horseshoe Bay in Bermuda. The light has been darkened, distorted, and made blurry by too much rum the previous evening.

Or am I projecting?

On second thought, it DOES uncannily resemble two poodles making out with a pair of prehensile-lipped bulls while Maslow watches beneath his Nazgul cloak, thinking all the while of the Jawas who would make a much more attractive coupling. This knowledge is stored in the rostral portion of his anterior cingulate gyrus.